


Game of Shadows

by Resa_Saso



Category: Doctor Who
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-24
Updated: 2019-05-24
Packaged: 2020-03-13 19:48:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,301
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18947644
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Resa_Saso/pseuds/Resa_Saso
Summary: The Master can't seem to stop standing in the Valeyard's way - And the Valeyard is doing his very worst to break him. Until the Doctors decide to put an end to it.





	Game of Shadows

The Master wasn’t sure what he was doing – And it was the scariest feeling of them all, it seemed to pull him into a darkness he knew there was no return from.

The total loss of control, loss of everything that was rational, that made sense, the only thing that had been left for him in the last few centuries – Stone cold logic.

It made his hearts beat faster in panic.

And still, here he stood, again, his wounds not even completely healed from the last time he had stood in his way.

The Doctor – No, he shouldn’t use that name, not ever, not even think it – The Valeyard growled in annoyance.

“Still not had enough?” he asked, his voice so cold, so spiteful, it made the Master shiver.

Never, in all his lives, had he heard the Doctor talk like this.

No, not the Doctor. He had to just tell himself that. This man, this monster, it wasn’t him, it couldn’t be him. His darkest part, yes, a part of him, something buried so deep inside, that he hadn’t even noticed it leaving, becoming an own person – But not the Doctor.

He had nothing of the Doctor’s love, or mercy or _kindness_.

He should love him. He should enjoy every single second spent with this man. He should conquer the galaxies by his side.

But he hated him with everything he was.

“Well, you know me,” the Master sneered back, trying his best to sound calmer than he felt. “Always coming back for more.”

“Yes,” the Valeyard purred, visibly amused by his enemy’s efforts. “I do know you. Say, does your side still hurt from when I stabbed you?”

The Master put on his best poker face, a mask full of distant indifference, eyes gleaming in deviousness. He knew it worked, because he had been wearing it so long that it had become part of his whole being, had ate into his soul and made a nest inside, covered his hearts to keep them warm.

It had been enough to fool the Doctor, every single time.

It didn’t fool the Valeyard.

“Cute. It’s not even healed yet, has it? Well, then let’s see what we can add to the canvas.”

He reacted faster than the Master could ever have expected - a swift movement of his arm, and piercing pain made the Master sink to his knees. His vision blurred and his head swam.

“No. Please.”

The words had fallen out of his mouth before he could hold them back and he regretted them instantly, but the Valeyard wasn’t even paying attention.

He looked at his hand with a vicious little smile, his black eyes gleaming coldly.

“Would you look at that? Works really well, this little thing. Can’t wait to see how the _Doctor_ likes it.”

“Don’t,” the Master spit, sounding more than himself again, fighting back to his feet with dark determination. His eyes only shortly flickered to the smoking weapon in the Valeyard’s hands, but he was trying everything in his power to seem braver than he actually felt. “Don’t you dare.”

The Valeyard smirked.

“Here you go again. Standing in my way. All the plans you have foiled, all the attacks you have caught for my foolish, _good_ self. What for, Master? All the pain, all the bullets you’ve taken for him… Do you think there’ll come a day they’re enough?”

The Master, now shaking with supressed anger, jumped at him, trying to the tear the weapon from him. The Valeyard laughed when he shot again, and still laughed when the Master sank back to the floor, a dark puddle on the light marble stone.

“Tell me, Master,” he continued speaking as if they hadn’t gotten interrupted at all, “Do you think one day it’ll be enough to make him _love_ you again?”

He wanted to get up, wanted to fight him, wanted to make him stop talking with everything he had left, but suddenly he felt drained, resigned, and powerless, so powerless.

“No,” he replied hoarsely. “I don’t think it will.”

“Well,” the Valeyard chuckled. “At least you’re realistic. Because believe me, I would know.” He smiled that smile he hated so much, that innocent, mockingly kind smile that he gave his prey before hitting the fatal blow.

The Master had seen it quite a few times.

“He never loved you in the first place.”

He didn’t know how something that he already knew, something that had already broken his hearts, could break them all over again. He couldn’t cry, he couldn’t get up and fight, he couldn’t scream, he couldn’t even close his eyes to hide from this cold, empty stare above him, mocking him.

He could only lie there and take the blow, feel an old, so old, wound tear open again and bleed through. A wound that was so much worse than all the physical pain he was feeling.

“Ah, but how could he,” the Valeyard went on, grinning now. “Look at you. Pathetic.”

He pressed the tip of his shoe into the Master’s side, right into his injury. He winced, both, in sudden pain and humiliation.

With a groan, the Master rolled to his other side and got up the floor, shaking the dust off his velvet jacket with a swift move.

“Don’t worry,” the Valeyard smirked unmoved, giving him time to get back on his feet with a crooked smirk. “I’m here to give you what you deserve.”

“And what’s that?” the Master growled, no longer in the mood for games and masks.

The Valeyard’s eyes gleamed dangerously.

“This.”

And in lightening speed, he had grabbed the Master by his lapels, crashed him against the hard stone wall with a push of an intensity, that made him see stars. Before the Master could even so much as react or realize what was happening, cold, hard lips pressed against his.

No, he thought, no, not this, not again, no.

He tried to push him away, tried to get his air back to breathe, tried to escape, but somehow, he felt himself respond to the kiss by instincts, felt his arms tugging at the other’s clothes, until the Valeyard chuckled and held them over his head, pressed against the wall.

He was starting to feel dizzy, the pain and the kiss sucking away his air. One of the Valeyard’s hands was still holding his wrists in place, the other was roaming down his body, tearing away clothes, layer after layer, until the Master was naked and writhing beneath his touch, still not fighting, not really.

Every kiss, every touch, the humiliation, the irony, the craving for more, seemed to burn onto his skin like fire, but he took it all, all the pain, and screamed for more. He wrapped his legs around the Valeyard as he took him, a victorious sparkle in those black, soulless eyes that seemed to bore into him, even when he closed his own.

The Valeyard didn’t care about his pleasure, the only thing that counted was his own. He took him fast and hard, and when he was done, he let him fall to the floor, the Master’s shaking legs giving out under him as soon as his wrists were let free and came all over him.

“See,” he asked in a quiet, composed tone, while looking down at the still figure to his feet. “Like I said: Pathetic.”

The Master still lay still, face down, on the cool marble stone, even after the echo of the Valeyard’s steps had long stopped resounding, even after his presence had long left his mind, even after his come had dried and his tears stopped.

Yes, he thought. In a universe in which control, logic and rationality had been all that he had left, he was now, utterly and completely, _lost_.


End file.
